When Yoshitomo Nara was a kid growing up in Hirosaki, Japan, he mostly listened to albums recorded by Western artists. He didn’t yet know English, so he stared at the album covers as he listened to the music—creating his own translations based on the vibe he was getting from the cover art.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Sigur Rós lately. Their music is really beautiful, and although I don’t normally dig a falsetto, the singer’s falsetto hits me just right.
To me, this song is perfect. Give it nine minutes of your time, knowing that the build that begins near the 6:30 mark and culminates at around 7:50 is one of my top three favorite musical moments. It wads my heart up, tosses it onto the floor, stomps it into a forensic analyst’s wet dream, and then scrapes it up with a spatula and flips it towards the sky where it becomes a functional heart again right as it reaches the apex and drops back down to oomph! between my lungs just in time for a tragic infarct near the 8:32 mark.
Back to this: I’ve been listening to a lot of Sigur Rós lately. Their lyrics are a mixture of Icelandic and Hopelandic (a made up language that fits the music phonetically), and I could look up the English translations but I would much rather take a cue from Yoshitomo Nara and create my own.
It’s been a rough summer—for everyone, I’m sure, but also for me. I’ll spare you the details (have you forgotten that I share only 17% of my life with you?), but please know that to me, this particular song is saying something like, “I said goodbye to the greatest boy dog last week and my life is at sixes and sevens right now. Last weekend was great with cold drinks and old friends, but today I am nothing but bullamacou, and my left eye won’t stop twitching.”
Also, this was 14 years ago, and it was yesterday.
(He really was the greatest boy dog.)
Did you know I’ve switched over to Substack?
You can subscribe if you want.
It’s free.
It will always be free.